Fix It
by WhatTheHellIsaUsername
Summary: Draco never thought he'd have to talk to Hermione again after the War. But one small thing brings them together - reluctantly. Rated T for the frequent use of strong language.
1. Chapter 1

**Fix It**

 **Disclaimer:** Only the plot belongs to me! All characters belong to the fabulous J.K Rowling. Oh, and there's a lot of swearing.

"Oh shitting hell!" Draco yelled from his dorm room. "Oh, why me?! Honestly, WHY ME? What did I EVER do to deserve this HELL?!" Theodore Nott sauntered into Draco's room, attracted to the cacophony of noise Draco was making.

"What is it this time?" Theodore sighed.

"My fucKING ROBE, NOTT. MY GOD DAMN ROBE!"

"What about your god damn robe?" Theodore asked, quietly. Draco tended to overreact like this. It was best to stay calm. This was the tenth time this sort of thing had happened to Theodore this week, and he had decided to try and not care as much.

"IT'S RIPPED. RIPPED I SAY. RIGHT IN THE… AREA." Draco violently thrusted his robe up into the air, showing the large gaping hole that was unmissable, and not in the best of areas. It was right where his butt was, and, although Draco, like all other students, wore trousers underneath (so nothing obscene would be showing), Draco still believed it to be the worst thing to have happened to him since about 2 weeks ago (when an owl shat on his head).

"Oh, that's hilarious!" Theodore sniggered to herself. "It's a literal arsehole. It's a hole in your arse area. Sorry, mate, but that's fucking hilarious."

"IT'S NOT HILARIOUS."

"Um," Theodore replied, raising a finger. "Yes it is."

"FUCK OFF, NOTT."

"Sure thing, Dracina. Before I leave, may I ask what the fuck you're going to do about the arsehole?"

"I don't fucking know!" Draco snapped, throwing his ragged robe onto his bed at such a speed it made his distinctively white-blond hair stand up, defying the large amounts of gel Draco had smothered into it this morning.

"Well, I know of one person who can fix it. She can use something called a 'sewing machine'."

"What in Merlin's name is that?!" Draco enquired, trying to pretend to not care, but, in actual fact, he would do anything to get the gaping hole out of his beloved robe.

"I don't know! But all I know is, I got a hole in the crotch area of my trousers this one time. I took it to her to get it fixed, and BAM, no more hole." Theodore started to leave Draco's dorm room. "But you don't seem interested, so maybe not." As Theodore's hand laid on the door knob to close the door, Draco suddenly stopped pretending to not care.

"Wait!" Draco told him. "Who is this person?"  
"Oh," Theodore laughed. "You won't want to know."  
"Tell me who it is, man, or I'll hex you!" Draco threatened, taking out his wand from his back pocket and pointing it at Theodore.

"Alright, alright!" Theodore said, raising his hands in a surrendering position. "Do you REALLY want to know?"  
"YES!"

"Alright fine," Theodore said. "Hermione Granger."

There was a moment's pause. Draco breathed in, and breathed out again.  
"Oh fuck no."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **Disclaimer:** Only the plot belongs to me! All characters belong to the fabulous J.K Rowling.

As soon as Theodore left, Draco grabbed his robe that sat in a small, sad pile on his bed, and stormed violently out of his room. It had been a very frustrating day for Draco. Firstly, his mother owl'd him and told him that no more pocket money would be sent to him unless he owl'd his third cousin three-times-removed (or something) and told him/her happy birthday. Draco said "no". His mother said "fine". He got his way as usual, but that 2 hour period where he believed he'd be the poorest Slytherin in existence was, indeed, very frustrating. Very quickly after that, he heard Potter and his dumb friends sniggering about his new, gelled back hair. Draco obviously didn't care what they thought about his hair, but it angered him all the same. And finally, the robe incident. Whoever cut the large, distastefully named 'arsehole' would pay, of course. Draco would just have to find out who did it.

Striding down through countless corridors, Draco made his way to find the only person he knew could fix this. It was deathly embarrassing to even have to converse with her, but Draco felt he had no option. It was Sunday evening, and he couldn't possibly go to breakfast the next morning, and go to all of his lessons, wearing a robe that had a large hole in the butt. He just couldn't. He had too much dignity to do such a thing. Of course, someone like Potter or Weasley wouldn't care; they'd just make a huge joke out of it, and get all of their equally dumb friends to laugh along. But, for someone like Draco, jokes didn't really exist, and dignity, above all else, was valued.

Draco turned left, right, left, right, left, and right again, until he got to the Great Hall. Oh, how he adored the Great Hall. It sparkled and gleamed, and something about the vastness of it made Draco feel special, not insignificant. He felt as if the room had been built just for him. The stained glass windows lit up beautifully, due to the evening sun shining strongly through them, painting the tables and walls many magnificent colours that Draco secretly loved. He marvelled in a long list of things, such as the torture of Mudbloods; seeing the Weasley girl cry, and yet also he marvelled in how the purple and blue tones from the stained glass windows splashed the Hall like an empty canvas.

Draco stopped at the side entrance to the Hall and looked in. There she was. Hermione Granger. Even saying her name in his head, Draco shivered. Conversing with a Mudblood was, to him, the most shameful thing a pureblood like him could ever do. But, for some reason, Draco felt more compelled than normal to talk to her. Like him, Granger had returned for her seventh year. Thankfully, not many others from their year had returned, so the shame of being seen with her was lessened slightly. However, the shame still lingered. Draco decided just to shake it off and walk in, head held high, to ask her if she could magically stitch the hole back up. Now, Draco knew that if he could literally magically stitch the hole back up, he would. But he didn't know of such a spell. Striding at lightning speed, Draco walked over to Hermione, who was sat on her own, her head buried in a book. _As usual, Draco thought, her head in a book. Why can't she just get a fucking life? What a fucking nerd._ As soon as he knew it, he was standing right next to her. He waited for a minute, hoping she'd realise he was standing there. She never looked up. Draco cleared his throat. Finally, she looked up, raised her eyebrows in disbelief, chuckled slightly and then she looked down again.

"Well," Draco spat. "Aren't you going to talk to me?"  
"Absolutely not," Hermione replied, instantly.

"And why is that?"

"Because you're a dick. Now, please leave me alone. I'm reading something very important." Draco looked at the cover of her book.

" _Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus_ is important? Huh, interesting."

"Shut up, Malfoy" Hermione said, slightly embarrassed, her cheeks turning red. She didn't look up from her book. Draco didn't move. He stood there, and stood there, until Hermione was forced to talk to him.

"Right," she said, finally putting down her very important reading. "What do you want? Are you here to come and insult me with your incredible, seemingly endless list of blood-related slurs? Or are you coming to gloat that ALL your friends are here, and neither Harry or Ron decided to come back? Or, no, wait, I know what it is... You've come over here to tell me just how much you despise me, and how much you're superior to me, and how you wish I had died at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Don't worry, I don't need to hear it."

"Actually, I'm not here to tell you any of that... Strangely. I need you to stitch this hole up for me, and fast. Tonight, preferably. Actually, by tonight." Draco told her, showing the lovely hole that had plagued him for at least half an hour, if not more.

"Now that's an excellently placed hole," Hermione said, grinning widely and suppressing the urge to laugh. "I don't see particularly why it needs stitching, though. It's not like people are going to see your... bits... under it. You do wear trousers underneath your robe, I hope. But anyway, if you desperately need me to do so, then I might consider it." She reached out to take the robe, but Draco stepped back.

"Don't touch it," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a mudblood."  
"Okay, Draco, you're making SO much sense. You come over here, asking for me to stitch a hole up for you, and when I want to touch the robe to see what I can do, you refuse to let me touch the robe. Evidently, you don't really want me to stitch up the hole. So, please, to save both of our time, leave. If you don't actually want me to stitch up your robe, then you might as well leave." Draco just stood there, debating whether or not to, in fact, leave. No. He couldn't have a massive hole in his arse for the rest of the year.

"Okay, fine," Draco eventually said, chucking the robe at Hermione's face. She caught it before it could land on her head, and started to evaluate the severity of the hole, and what she could do. After what Draco assumed to be about 10 minutes, she said, "I can fix it for you. But I would never do this for you for free, I hope you understand. What can you offer me in exchange?" This was definitely something Draco had never considered. He just assumed she'd do it for free, just like everyone else he'd ever known/cared about/mildly cared about/not really cared about. He thought about this deeply, because he REALLY needed the hole to be gotten rid of.

"Right, I can give you this old jumper I have, because I've heard rumours that someone had stolen all of your jumpers." This was true. Hermione had, one day, come back to her dorm after a day sitting outside with Parvati, to discover all of her coats, jumpers and jackets gone missing. This was even more upsetting considering the fact that this had happened in the midst of winter, and temperatures were at their lowest since 1956. It was January now, and Hermione was surviving off of a slightly itchy woollen jumper that Luna had given her. It suited Luna, but definitely not her. "And you can keep the god damn jumper, because all the washing in the world could not take out the disgusting germs a mudblood like you would get into the jumper."

Hermione considered this. She needed a jumper, but could she take a jumper from a boy that had caused her so much pain and misery throughout her Hogwarts years? Could she take a jumper from a boy who supported the Death Eaters, and even became one himself, standing by and doing nothing as she was tortured? Hermione could feel the pain even now. The scar that Bellatrix Lestrange had left on her arm would stay with her forever. But, right now, that was all in the past, and Hermione was shivering at night. She needed a jumper. It seemed completely superficial of her to accept his request, what with their past, but, at this moment in time, she needed another jumper that wasn't so itchy. She could then give the jumper back to Luna who, since giving Hermione her jumper, looked as cold as Hermione felt when all her jumpers had gone missing. Hermione had a bad feeling that Luna had given her her last jumper.

"Yes, alright, fine. Deal," Hermione said, holding out her hand for Draco to shake it. In the Muggle world, that's how a deal was signified and sealed. Draco looked at her hand, terrified. Should he touch her? No! Of course not. He wasn't going to touch a _mudblood_. But… still… he felt he should. He shook her hand with extreme vigour and with extreme speed. Before he left, he stuttered, "thanks, by the way. Find me when you're done."

As Draco sped off, Hermione had to sit and consider just what the hell happened. Draco Malfoy just came and asked her for a favour. Draco MALFOY. "Wow," Hermione said to herself. "That really is crazy."


End file.
